The Doctor Will See You Now
by harrishawksuperiour
Summary: A strange case leads the boys to an old friend of their grandfather's. It's solved relatively easily with her help but it seems there's a lot more to Dr Agrippa than they realized. Her past days with a soulless Sam have somewhat tarnished her thoughts of him but maybe they can be reconciled. But they also have to figure out what the hell she is.
1. Chapter 1 - An Outside Family History

((I found this from ages ago and decided to put it up. It's probably not the best but what the hell. There's another two/three/four chapters to be published and it people are interested, I'll put them up. I've seen loads of Soulless Sam fan fiction and he's usually portrayed as volatile, aggressive and somewhat perverse so I just thought I'd stick with this model. Also, Castiel being a little bitch. No smut but sexual references. Yay!))

"We've hit a wall, Dean." Sam sighed, eyes tired from looking over the autopsy photos in the dim light of the bunker's reading room. Examining the body itself had not given any extra clues that the photos might have missed. "It's not a werewolf, the lunar cycle is all wrong. It's not a ghoul; it just slashed him and left him. It's not even a slashing it, it's like a goring? The marks don't look like anything we've seen….." He looked back at his brother who was silently trying to piece it all together. "Thoughts?" Dean mulled it over for another moment before answering. "It wasn't just a bear or something simple like that. The park ranger already ruled it out. They know critters better than us. Plus, the lightning storm beforehand is hardly a freakin' coincidence." "So…. What? Just leave and hope it doesn't kill anyone else?" "Times like this I really miss Bobby." Dean murmured after a small mournful pause. "There's no one we can call." Sam hesitated. "Actually…. There is." "Who?" More hesitation. He picked up his phone and scrolled through it until he stopped at a name, a number and an address. "Dr. C. Agrippa?" Dean took the phone that Sam held out to him. "I was supposed to delete that number but I didn't have a soul so…." "Who is it?" "An old contact of Samuel's. Had good intel, especially for this kind of thing. A cryptozoologist among other things. Might be able to help us." "Well, what're we waiting for? Let' s go!" Dean tossed the phone back to his brother and grabbed his suit jacket, patting the breast pocket to ensure his badge was still there but Sam hadn't moved. "Uhh…. Sam?" "You go. I'll stay and keep digging. We didn't part on the best of terms." "Text me the address."

The Impala pulled up outside an old, gothic style mansion; complete with ravens screeching from the high wrought iron fences, a bare tree rocking back and forth in the breeze and an un-ignorable feeling of being watched. Dean straightened his jacket, looked around the abandoned yard before climbing the steps to the ancient front door. Old and all as the place was, it was well kept. As soon as Dean rang the bell, an unmerciful howling erupted from somewhere deep within the house. It didn't sound like any dog he'd ever heard before. Or did it? Before he could think on it anymore, the front door opened on a chain and a pair of curious, bright blue eyes greeted him. "Evening ma'am." He reached into his jacket for his badge. "My name is Agent Coulson with the FBI….." He flashed the badge and the eyes followed it. "I'm looking for Dr. Agrippa? Is he around?" "In relation to what?" It spoke. A throaty English (London?) accent, not too posh or grand but it had an edge. "I just have a few questions about a murder a few towns over; I think Dr. Agrippa might be able to help me with some information. May I come in?" The door closed, the chain was taken off and the door was opened again. He got a look at the woman now. She was small, pale, curvy with dirty blonde curls, very pretty and dressed in black. A simple polo neck and jeans with the blue eyes he knew already. She was also very young. Early twenties young. She stepped back to let him pass then shut the door behind him once he'd stepped into the hallway there the gothic theme seemed to continue.

The blonde lead Dean into an office where all manner of strange books and objects stood on various shelves. A number of stuffed animals decorated random surfaces but if Dean looked closely, he would see subtle differences in some and not so subtle differences in others. Some just downright didn't exist – officially. The female sat against a dark, medieval looking writing desk with her arms folded over her (substantial) chest, looking over the 'agent' expectantly. Dean looked back at her, unsure of what she was waiting for. "Umm…." He cracked one of those charming smiles, the type that usually got him what he wanted. "I really need to talk to Dr. Agrippa; if you could get him for me, that would be great." "You're looking at her." "Excuse me?" "I'm Dr. Agrippa." "Dr. C. Agrippa?" "Catherine, yes." Dean took her in again. "But you're like…. What? Twenty three?" "And?" He had to take a moment. "You had questions for me?" "Uhh… Yeah…." The Winchester's throat cleared. "Right. The Bureau sent me-" "Let me stop you there. I'd like to show you something." She moved off the desk and gently touched his arm to turn him around. He flinched. It stung. This was almost too weird. Even for Dean. But he followed her instruction and turned to face a wall of diplomas from various universities in various countries in various years in various fields. Dean didn't notice those though. They all had the one name in common. Catherine Agrippa. "Doctorate." She pointed to the furthest one. "Doctorate." She pointed to the next one and continued pointing as she went. "Doctorate. Doctorate. Doctorate. Doctorate. Doctorate. Masters….. I've been meaning to get around to that one. Doctorate. Doctorate." She rounded on him suddenly. "I'm not stupid. You think your badge is the first fake I've seen? I've been helping hunters for years, decades. I know exactly who you are and it's not what's written on that badge." Dean was lost for words as the blonde turned to prowl around the room like an animal. Coming here was a mistake. He knew that now. "You're not like them, do you know that?" She asked from over by her desk, standing at full drawn height. It wasn't very much but it had a different sort of intimidation to it, one that Dean couldn't quite put his finger on. "Not like them?!" Dean repeated, his nerves coming out as angry confusion. "Not like who?!" "The Campbells." Dean already knew she was a contact of Samuel's but how could she be? She was too young. Younger than him, younger than Sam. Unless he met her recently before his death. But that was years ago. She couldn't have been a doctor at her age while he was still alive, certainly not several times over. "I'm not like Samuel." Dean huffed, defiant. "No, you're not." She agreed lightly from the desk. "Samuel is level headed. Or was. Sam was like Samuel. Or at least that's what I heard, not what I saw. I'm assuming that's how you came by my contact details? Your brother?" "Yeah." Dean nodded. Sam hadn't given details on his last encounter with this woman. "No, you're more shoot first, ask questions later. Like your father. One of the things that Samuel complained about him, if I recall."

"Whoa….." Dean held up a hand and gave a warning sort of a chuckle to stop her. "You knew my dad?" "Only through your mother." "You…. My MOTHER?!" "Yes." Speechless. "Who are you?" "Ugh." Her eyes rolled and she bit the inside of her cheek to remind herself of patience. All she could do was respond to him with calmness. Humans. "You came here looking for me with my name on your lips. My name is Dr. Catherine Agrippa. And don't….." He was about to reach into his pocket. "Go for your gun. It won't help you. We're just talking." "You're lying!" "About what?" "Everything!" "Calm down, Dean." "I didn't tell you my freakin' name!" "I already told you I know who you are." The female watched the hunter intently. He might have had John's personality (after all, he'd been moulded by him) but…. "You look like her. You have her eyes." "Yeah." Dean snorted with a roll of his own eyes. "Cause you knew her, right?""Fine." She conceded after a snap decision, going to one of the drawers of the desk and rooting around until she came to an old photo which she crossed the room to hand him. He recognized Samuel instantly; sitting on a sofa with a baby bouncing on his lap, the woman sitting beside him was the woman standing before him now. Nothing about her had changed. The scrawl on the back said _December 5th 1955. Mary's 1st Birthday_. Both their smiling attentions were on the baby in Samuel's arms – baby Mary Campbell. "I liked your father. Or I did." She told him, her tone had now softened since Mary had been brought into the conversation but Dean couldn't look up from the photo. "He had more of a playful spirit than Samuel gave him credit for." The doctor went quiet for a moment, like she was composing herself. "I was devastated when I heard. It was some time after it happened that I heard, of course. John turned up on my doorstep, said his boys were in some nearby motel and he just needed contacts, information, anything. I offered for him to bring you here but he refused." She paused solemnly, reminding herself that this was one of the boys. One of Mary's boys. She'd never discussed Mary's death. No one to discuss it with. Yet here was her son. "I always assumed that it was something to do with not knowing what I was but I could never be sure. In his own head, he was keeping you from the unknown as much as he could. I all but begged him not to pursue it. Not to drag you into that excuse of a life but nothing would sway him. I told him that I knew Mary wouldn't want it. She had told me herself, ever before she met him. It seems the wound was still fresh because he stormed out and slammed the door. I didn't hear from him again until years later when he needed me. Mary was the only one that came when she didn't want something." Dean managed to tear his eyes from the photo and replaced them on the unknown creature before him. "What are you?" "I cannot say." "Why?" "Your family and others besides have been trying to figure that out for years. My safety is in my own secrecy."

"You a demon?" "No." "How can I be sure?" A sigh and she approached the dresser beside Dean, withdrawing a small bottle with a cross on it. Holy water. It was held out for Dean to take. He did so but simply put it back on the dresser. "You're old, huh?" "Yes." "How old?" "A lady doesn't discuss her age, Dean." "So you, a God knows what, has been helping hunters for …years? And no one's tried to gank you?" She laughed in response, too many had tried. "Oh no, plenty. There's a lot to be said for lying low. But I suppose, if they don't know what I am, they can't kill me. I have no doubt, however, that if I was not useful to Samuel or if I was anyway hostile, he would have tried to kill me. I overheard him reprimanding your brother for it, as a matter of fact." Dean remembered Sam saying they hadn't parted on the best of terms. "What happened with you and Sam?" Silence. The doctor paced lightly, biting the inside of her cheek again before she answered, it was clear she was trying to word this carefully. "Your brother's hunting principals are very strong. But he was selective. In his….. _state_ , I should not have been surprised by his hostility. I met him a few times during the year he hunted with Samuel. That smirk sent shivers to my core, truly vicious. I couldn't tell if he was imagining me naked or dead half the time. I patched him up a few times, like I said his principals were strong, he's a good hunter but passion often took hold and he got reckless. There were a number of spurned advances which he didn't like one bit. Phone calls at all hours of the night, both of a sexual and threatening nature." Needless to say, Dean was surprised. Sam had always taken rejection well. Maybe it was his meek nature but during his soulless days, he was bound to be different. "He knew nothing of me. He knew I wasn't human, but that was it. He demanded answers that Samuel didn't have. He barged in here one night, unsettled my animals and swore he would discover what I was. Then he promised to give me the most agonizing death imaginable. A comforting thing to hear." Catherine drew down the side of her polo neck to show Dean a dark, prominent scar. "He gave me that for my troubles." The hunter approached her and gently brushed his fingertips over the ugly, raised skin. If she was human, that wound would have killed her. It was right above her jugular. His Sammy had done that? "He didn't have a soul…." "I know." "Samuel told you?" "No. I could see it." Dean looked her over again. She could see souls? Or rather that Sam didn't have one? "Do you…. Do you have any more pictures like this?" He held up the one in his hand. "Yes. I'll look for them and make copies for you." He cast her a surprised but grateful look. She didn't know him, his brother had tried to do God knows what to her but she just offered to make copies of photos of his mother for him? Why had John kept them from her?


	2. Chapter 2 - Got My Soul Back

"It seems in all our past dredging, we have completely forgotten the purpose of your visit, Dean." She called him back to reality with a brighter tone that told him she was more comfortable with him now. Truth be told, she was probably comfortable with him from the start. She wouldn't have laid herself bare if she didn't. "What did the 'Bureau' send you for?" She was teasing him now and cracked a sweet smile to show it. "Right." He laughed and flashed the badge again. "They told me there was a woman here who needed to be protected from being too gorgeous." He finished with a another laugh and a cheeky wink. "You're exactly like he said." Catherine replied with a playful roll of her periwinkle eyes. Dean waited for an explanation but was still grinning. "When I met him first, he said his brother would be all over me with cheesy pickup lines. But he admitted, with distaste at the time, that they usually worked." His green gaze never left her blue one. "They working now?" "Oh darling!" The pet names had started. A good sign? "You'll have to try a lot harder than that. I've been around for a long time and I've looked like this for most of it; I've seen and heard it all." Dean ticked his head and silently filed that challenge away for later. "Until then." He produced the file with the autopsy photos. "Maybe you can help us with this. Me and Sam are stumped." Catherine took the file to her desk and opened it. The gore didn't seem to bother her. Dean sat opposite in a chair that felt like it was two hundred years old. Not uncomfortable but he wouldn't make a habit of sitting in it. He watched as her forehead creased with a frown of concentration and disbelief, turning the photos and muttering to herself. "No….. It can't be…. It's just can't….. It's not feasible…." Catherine got up and Dean's vision followed her from his seat. He watched with interest as she scurried to a large ominous looking wardrobe by the window. Drawers were ripped open and rummaged through until she found what she was looking for. Dean turned back around and waiting but jumped when a long, white object was dropped on the desk in front of him from behind.

"Is that…..?" He carefully reached out and picked up the sharp, spiralled item, turning it over in his calloused hands. "Does that look like your murder weapon?" She sat back down, eyes flickering between the thing in Dean's hands and the autopsy photos with her hands clasped together. "But…." "I have two theories. Your murderer used one of these to kill your victim or… You have a rogue unicorn on the loose." Dean was dumbfounded. "A unicorn." It wasn't even a question. Just a stunned echo of the doctor. "A horse with a horn on its head." "I know what a freakin' unicorn is! You're telling me it killed that guy?!" "That depends. When did he die?" "Last night." "Lightning storm?" "Yeah….?" "Then yes. Unless a unicorn horn wielding lunatic knew a unicorn would appear after a lightning storm, waited then took his chance." "Uh…. Huh….." "Where did this happen?" "Lawrence. About four hours from here." "Are you returning there?" "If that's all you can tell me." "I assume you're proceeding with the case then?" "Guess so." "What do you know about unicorns, Dean?" He paused but couldn't even come up with a sarcastic answer. "Uh…. Nothing actually." "Well, I know plenty. I should like to help you." "Right. Well, I work with Sam so you're gonna have to take that into account." "Sam has the problem, not me." She informed him with a perfect eyebrow arched. "Your brother did not come here because he is afraid, guilty or murderous. One of the three. He could have come here but he decided he could not face me." She seemed passionate so Dean accepted.

The back of the Impala sagged before the door shut. Dean's face creased with a curious grimace. He'd only seen her put in a bag. It couldn't have been that heavy. "I've always liked this car." Catherine remarked fondly as she sat in beside him. It had been a long time since she'd seen it. It was almost as pristine as when John had had it all those years ago. "Only ever been in the back seat though." The hunter whipped to face her with a stunned expression but was met with a smirk. "Relax. I'm screwing with you." "So….. All those diplomas….." Dean began a few minutes into the trip, desperate to scratch his curious itch. "What did you do?" "I'm assuming you mean what fields? I try to be as useful as possible. Mostly humanities, things like religion, history, law, classics, literature, Greek, Latin. Then the especially useful ones like cryptozoology, ordinary zoology, veterinary medicine and human medicine." Dean stared at her before looking back at the road. She was like Bobby 2.0. Educated, experienced and beautiful. Only God knew what she was or how old she was, she must have had plenty of time to do all that. "Does Sam know I'm coming?" The male was quiet for a moment. He'd contemplated calling Sam while Catherine packed but decided against it. He wasn't sure how his brother would react or if he would try and advise Dean against it. "No, he doesn't." "I see. Are you going to tell him?" "No." "Your decision."

Dean stood in the bunker's kitchen, slicing through a sandwich when Sam came into the room holding the laptop. "So get this." The taller but younger hunter began in his usual manner. "The victim was a game shooter…" "Sam?" "Yeah?" Dean didn't answer, simply nodded to something behind his brother. So Sam turned and almost dropped the laptop. There stood the blonde with her hip cocked and her arms folded over her chest. It had been years since he'd seen her, years since he'd hunted with Samuel and yet she hadn't changed or aged a day. "C…Catherine?" "So I'm not 'beautiful' anymore?" It was said tartly with a sharp eyebrow raised in his direction. "I…. Uh…. Got my soul back." "I can see that. My congratulations." "Yeah…. How've you been?" "Good." Her tone stayed sharp. "Lying low. Doing my thing. And you?" "Kinda the same really." "See Sam? We're not so different after all." That was downright scathing and even Dean felt it. Like it had burned when she touched him. "Dean, can you give us a minute?" Sam requested quietly, eyes never leaving Catherine and Dean was only too happy to oblige.

A tense silence engulfed the kitchen for several moments before Sam could pluck up the courage to say something. Anything. "I…. I'm sorry, I know you told me to delete your number." "Was that an unreasonable request? After everything you did?" "No…. It wasn't." "What were you thinking?!" "Then or when I sent Dean to talk to you?" "Most recently, Sam." "We were desperate. We don't just leave cases." The intruding female rolled her eyes. There was John's mentality again. "If you wanna punch me or something, I'm not gonna stop you." "I'm not going to punch you, Sam. That's hunter crap." He should have known she'd take that route. It was about being the bigger person. She'd always been patient with him, as patient as one can be for someone without a soul. He'd tried to kill her blindly; but it wasn't a surprise that she hadn't tied to punish him. "You didn't come here to punish me?" Catherine eyed him with a grimace. Yes, he had his soul back but it was still difficult to be around him. It would take some adjusting. "I could have punished you at any time in far worse ways but I chose not to. I'm here because of the case. Like you said; you don't abandon cases." There was a pause. "How's your leg?" She asked, with a sad sort of concern. She did care how his leg was. He'd suffered enough. Sam's face flushed. "A friend healed it. Do you still have him?" "Logan? Of course. I snuck him in." Her aim was to be as forgiving as possible. These were Mary's boys.


	3. Chapter 3 - Hit Rewind

The Men of Letters bunker should have been a dream come true. She had always stayed well and truly off their radar, how she managed it, she didn't know. So much knowledge in one place in more or less its original state: it was beautiful. But she couldn't enjoy it. "We'll head back to the site tomorrow. Get some sleep." Dean had told her, showing her to an empty bedroom. It would be kept locked. Memories flooded her as she lay there, ones she hadn't thought of in a while. Ones that made her feel sad and angry.

" _Where is he?" "In the other room." "What in God's name was he doing?!" "He decided he didn't need to wait for the rest of us. Got em all but got himself cut up pretty bad." "Idiot. Does anyone else need me or is it just him?" "Nah, just him." The doctor's heeled boots clicked along the old wooden corridor of the Campbell base to where the newest addition to the hunting team was waiting. Catherine pushed open the door, let it shut and flawlessly drew down her hood to find he was already smirking at her. "Hey beautiful." "What the hell were you doing?" The blood spattered across his body or the open wounds didn't seem to faze him. He was more taken up with the blonde. "Answer me, Sam!" "I was doing my job." It was said with laziness and callousness as he stretched out on the bed, shirt off, looking her over the way he always did. "Your job? You know how these hunts work! You wait, you take instruction and you work together!" "I'm not a dog, babe. I don't wait and I don't take instruction." "No, you're not. Dogs have integrity and loyalty." His nostrils flared, he didn't like it when she spoke back. Catherine threw down her bag and opened it, withdrawing hand sanitizer, a glass bottle of foul smelling anti-septic and a clean rag. Her own hands were cleaned before the liquid was lashed onto the rag. She didn't care if it hurt or not. She was at the end of her tether with him. In fact, she pressed down on the wounds harder than necessary to prove a point. Not that it made a difference. She kneeled over him, wiping away the blood and getting in deeper to clean the cuts, all the while trying to ignore his hot breath on her throat. She finished cleaning and swabbing then started to stitch. It was as if he couldn't feel a thing. He required stitches in a particularly nasty gash on his lower abdomen so Catherine pushed him down fully onto the bed. "Now we're getting somewhere." Came the chilling purr, rubbing a hand up her thigh while she sterilised the needle on a candle next to the bed. He was persistent. Numerous times he had made this move and each time, he got the same reaction. "Grow up, Sam!" She snapped at him, swiping at his hand with the needle. "God, seriously! You think someday I'm going to magically change my mind?! Now hold still." She was halfway through the stitching when the soulless Winchester started to chuckle. "For goodness sake, now what?!" "I'm looking at your lips." "My lips? What?" "I'm wondering what they'd look like wrapped around my-" "Alright; you know what? I'm out. Screw this and screw you, Sam." The needle was thrown down and she got up to collect her bag. "I was hoping you'd help me with that." "Bite me, Winchester." "I knew you liked it rough." "Ugh. You wouldn't know what to do with me." "How about you come back over here and I prove you wrong?" "If Samuel wants you fixed, he can do it himself." With that the blonde, shut the bag with a snap and left the room without looking at the hunter on the bed. She ran into Gwen in the corridor. "Finish stitching him then bandage him. Tell Samuel that I don't care if he gets his head ripped off, I'm not tending to Sam again." It didn't end there._

 _1am. Catherine sat up at her desk, pouring over multiple reports of Megladon sightings. If they were real, the Megladon was getting careless. Maybe it was bored of its existence. Maybe it wanted to be found. Even though the hour was late, Catherine's phone rang. Unknown number. "Hello?" "Hey beautiful." "What do you want, Sam?" "I know we had a moment when you were stitching me up." "No, Sam. We didn't have a moment; we didn't even have a second. Now shag off, I'm busy." "What could be more important than me?" "Literally everything on this planet but at the moment, Megladon sightings." "Yeah, I don't care. What're you wearing?" "Sam, seriously. I'm hanging up now." "Hang up and I'm coming over there." "Of course you are, Sam. Goodnight." She took no notice of his threat. Maybe she should have. The doctor had had enough of the Megladon for one evening and so decided it was time to change for bed. "Come on, darling. Bed time." She cooed to seemingly nothing but she could feel it padding up the stairs behind her. Teeth brushed, hair combed and changed into her black silk thigh high nighty, she went around her room, blowing out candles (she preferred them to electricity, force of habit with her age) until she heard a noise downstairs. Logan had heard it too. Black hackles raised and eyes twitched so she let him onto the landing before her. She didn't need a weapon. She reached the top of the stairs in time to see Sam Winchester push in her front door with a lock pick in hand. Logan barked and snarled, grabbing Sam's attention but all he could see was Catherine standing alone at the top of the stairs. "Heel." She breathed to the animal as another animal advanced on the stairs with menacing eyes and a honeyed tone of voice. "I told you I'd come over." "Get out." "I don't think so. Not till you admit there was something going on there today." "Then I have nothing to admit." "Come on, babe. Don't be like that." "I'm warning you, Sam." "I'm gonna find out what you are." He told her in the same tone but with even more dreadful intent, taking each step as it came. "I'm gonna make sure every hunter in the country knows it. But you know what? It won't matter." He made his way up the stairs slowly and she subtly held out a flat hand at her side; a noiseless command to restrain the hound. He pulled a dagger from his jeans and closed the distance between them. "I'm giving you one last chance to leave and delete my number, Sam." "Or what?" It was mocking, taunting and he didn't seem to have any concern for what waving a dagger around could do. "As I was saying….." The dagger suddenly carved straight into the side of Catherine's throat. He held it there, shimmied it in a little further and watched as the doctor crumbled and fell to her knees on the landing. "Yeah, that's where you should be." He whispered, ripping out the blade and watching the blood pour but not waiting to sample some. "I'm gonna find out what you are and when I do, I'm gonna give you the worst death you can possibly imagine. If I haven't done it already. That's a promise, babe." Logan could take no more. His command was broken. As far as Sam was concerned, he was being attacked by thin air. Several rows of razor-sharp teeth latched onto Sam's plaid shirt, tearing it before sending the hunter tumbling down the stairs. Logan didn't stop. Sam groaned at the bottom of the ornate staircase, all he could see was Catherine's pale, blood soaked arm, draping down from the landing, blood dripping from the fingertips. But he was set upon again by the same invisible force. This time, it grabbed him by the leg, sunk its mighty teeth in, undoubtedly causing muscle, tendon and tissue damage. Sam roared and tried to swipe at his attacker but to no avail. "Logan…." A weak call from the landing. Sam wasn't her concern. She didn't want to involve Logan from the start. She didn't want him reverting to previous behaviour. Immediately, the hound stopped and heavy paws padded up the stairs towards the call. Sam, grunting and bleeding, hauled himself up and dragged himself out where he would surely face a flurry of questions from Samuel._

" _What happened?!" The patriarch demanded as Gwen tried to clumsily stitch her cousin's leg. "Nothing." Sam growled, sulking and in pain. "Your muscles are draped on the bed, that's not nothing!" Samuel snapped, starting to think his soulless grandson was more trouble than he was worth. A good hunter but reckless at times. "What attacked you?!" "Hell Hound." Was Sam's grudging answer, having had time to put two and two together. Why the hell did she have a Hell Hound?! "Did you kill it?!" "No, she called it off." "Who did?" "Agrippa." Samuel's face contorted. He knew she could be potentially dangerous but this just didn't fit. She wasn't a demon. She'd been splashed with Holy water, present during exorcisms, everything. Why would she have a Hell Hound? Where would she get it from? "Agrippa?" "Yeah!" "Dammit, Sam! Why would Catherine have a Hell Hound?! And why would she set it on you?!" "She didn't. It attacked me when I stabbed her." The oldest male was having trouble controlling himself now. "Everyone. Out." It was a command the rest of the team obeyed instantaneously. "What. Did. You. DO?!" Sam looked at his grandfather coldly but said nothing. "That woman is an asset! She is the reason our family stands above others in the hunting tradition! She has information and knowledge other hunters would give their left nut for!" "You bangin her, Samuel?" Sam asked casually, disregarding everything the elder had just said. "Is that why she won't screw me?" Samuel's face had turned beetroot with a thick vein pounding in his temple. "Is that what this is about?! Your ego?! Should get the Hell Hound back to finish the job." Samuel snarled, tearing across the room, ripping open the door then slamming it behind him._

 _Twenty something years earlier. The same pair of blue eyes appeared behind the chain of an old mansion door. It shut quickly and her full form appeared with brightness and a smile. "John?" "Catherine…. Hey…." The hug was loose and the smile was forced, something was wrong. "John, it's been six years… What's…. What's going on? Where's Mary?" He didn't answer, just stepped past her into the house. The Impala sat in the driveway, empty. Catherine closed the door and followed her friend's husband (the last time they'd spoken was a year or so after the wedding, Catherine didn't know why) into her office. "John?" It was cautious, dreading, like poking a sleeping bear. John's eyes looked hollow, dead, exhausted. He was unshaven, stiff and smelled like whiskey and leather. There was no question that something had happened but she didn't know what. "John?" There was more urgency now and the Winchester couldn't take it. He broke down. "Gone." Was all he choked and the doctor prayed that didn't mean what she thought it meant. "Gone? John, what's gone?" "She is. She's gone." It was followed by a hard sob which was hard for the non-human to see. "John, look at me. I need more than that. Gone? Gone where?" "DEAD!" He shouted at her, snapping now. "DEAD. DEMON." Catherine felt her lip tremble and her eyes begin to swell. It couldn't be. Her sweet Mary. Gone. It was that kind of crippling emotional anguish that one could nearly turn into physical agony. "John…. When?" "Two years…. I've been chasing my tail for over two years….." "Two…." The blonde choked on disbelief. How could he have kept this from her?! Two years her friend was in the ground and he couldn't pick up the phone, send a letter?! "Two years….?! How could you-" "I needed to think about my boys…." Boys… What boys? Realization hit her. "Why…. Why didn't anyone tell me?" John couldn't bring himself to look at the blonde. Perhaps she felt betrayed by her friend and by a family she had helped since she came to this country. She often thought of herself as a living family heirloom. Passed onto Samuel by his father, then onto Mary and she had hoped she would be there for Mary's children. That wasn't to be. It only made sense that this was John's fault. She refused to accept that she was now obsolete, a dusty encyclopedia on the shelf. "Where are they now?" John hesitated. "In a motel near here." "A motel?! For goodness sake, John, bring them here!" "No!" It was sharp and the female felt taken aback and confused by it, hurt even. "Why?" She was answered with silence. She would see the same pattern in his son years later. Silence meant guilt. "I see…. You don't trust me." "I need help, Catherine." "Help?" She repeated, trying to keep the pain and despair out of her voice and the image of two young boys alone in a motel room out of her mind. "What kind of help?" "I need to find the son of a bitch. I don't care what I have to do, I need to find it." She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You can't be serious." "Why?" "You're going to drag two small children cross country in search of a demon that you might never find or die trying? Are you out of your mind?" "Catherine…." "What would Mary say?" Then she knew she'd touched a nerve. John's eyes flashed, they were no longer dead and exhausted but alive with fury. "I'm doing this for her!" "Did you know Mary? Did you listen to a word she ever said? This is the LAST thing she would have wanted! It was the worst thing she could think of! She would have done anything to prevent her sons going into the life that she hated! And you know it!" She remembered that conversation with the Campbell girl so clearly. "I'll be there for your children. Just like I was there for you." The doctor had promised tenderly and received a hug for it. It was no secret Mary hated the hunting existence. At least not to Catherine. "What if something goes wrong?! What then? They'll be dragged into the same poisonous cycle of revenge, just like you! You're taking their childhoods, their lives, John!" She was pleading now, bordering on begging with her eyes watering. "Please John; let them be children like Mary wanted." "It's not open for discussion, Catherine. Will you help me or not?" "No. Not if it means being a part of their misery. I won't betray Mary like you are. I won't betray them." "Fine." He spat, kicking back his chair to gun for the door. "You know where I am if you change your mind." He ignored her and stomped from the room and out into the driveway; leaving Catherine to break down and tearfully wallow in the loss of a friend and the loss of two little boys she may never get to meet. Good enough for information but not enough to help protect his children. Mary's children._


	4. Chapter 4 - Loved and Lost

The clearing was still marked by police line. It had taken a lengthy phone call from Sam to persuade them to keep the scene intact for now; that the FBI was bringing in a consultant. Technically, it was true, minus the FBI part. The real FBI had no idea what was going on. The boys flashed their badges with no issue and when it came to her, Dean turned to explain but the doctor had already introduced herself as Dr. Emily Madden, expert in unusual animal related deaths. A flutter of the eyelashes and a flirtatious smile and she was past the police line without a badge or a vouching from the 'agents'. The boys shared a look; both seemed to have forgotten that there were more ways past a police line than a badge. Catherine walked the clearing, touching branches, sniffing leaves, watching for behaviour of other animals in the area. Sam and Dean stood back and let her work. Then suddenly everything went quiet and all to be heard was a ranting. "Bad for business!" Came an accent not unlike her own but not too like it. "People pulling out of deals! Or trying to!" A small, rough faced man, dressed in a black suit appeared between the boys and the doctor; facing them and leaving her behind. "What is?" Dean asked, bored, as if this occurrence was common place but all Catherine could do was stare at the demon. Yes, she knew he was a demon. "Some idiot makes a deal to hunt a unicorn then goes and gets killed by the bloody thing!" The smaller man ranted, clearing up their whole case in a single sentence. The boys looked past Crowley to Catherine. "Whatta you think?" Catherine didn't answer. She was far too unnerved by the look of predatory intrigue on the demon's face when he spotted her. "Crowley." Dean warned with a growl but he had turned and started towards her, that look only intensifying. "Not the usual kind of company you two keep." He began, watching Catherine unrelentingly as he circled her. "I thought they were all gone and here you are." He paused dead ahead of her and she waited for the blow. _"Nephilim."_

The word had never been spoken to her, about her or by her. She felt like her whole body had been doused with cold water and that her system had frozen over from it. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak. Over two hundred and twenty years wasted. Spoiled by a demon. Well, the King of Hell. She didn't open her mouth to defend herself but her solemn eyes found the Winchesters, both staring open mouthed at her then looking at each other. "I'm sure you have things to discuss." The demon broke the silence and disappeared with a smirk and a click of his fingers. Would they harm her? Would they kill her? Was it not in their nature to remove things that didn't belong? Sam, after all, had made her a promise some years ago that if he ever found out that he would end her. Had that been his lack of soul talking? Had Samuel refused to pry into her species because if he found out, he would be obligated to kill her? Nothing came. No angel blades, no accusing tones. Not yet. Dean was the first to approach her. He wordlessly took her arm which made her flinch and guided her back to the car, Sam trailing behind. She was put into the back seat where the silent drive back to the bunker began. Dean juggled the steering wheel while he fought to get his phone out of his pocket; a number was dialled and answered almost immediately. "Bunker. Now." Was all he said to the person on the other end, earning him a fretful look from Sam as he hung up. "Better safe than sorry, Sammy." "Dean, she hasn't…." "We're not discussing this now." The rest of the journey passed with an ominous quiet. Catherine looked out the window without protest, the occasional tear would roll down her cheek and she'd do nothing to stop it. Dean had spent enough time in his father's company. Even after Sam had gone off to Stanford. He knew there was a reason for everything his father did. His father didn't know what the doctor was; surely that was the extent of his paranoia? Dean had to know for certain. The Impala rolled to a stop outside the bunker after a seemingly endless journey and she was escorted inside, down into its depths, well beyond the level she had familiarized herself with on her short stay.

The Holy Fire danced around her tauntingly. She had put up no resistance which concerned Dean. Was she going to unleash something and was just biding her time? This same woman that had promised him pictures of his mother? She simply waited. Waited for death, waited for release; she didn't know yet. A few levels above her, Sam sat at the kitchen table while Dean paced like a cage lion, waiting for the full angel to turn up. "Dean." Sam couldn't take it anymore. "What are you planning on doing here? And bringing Cas into it? She's done nothing to us. She's only tried to help us…." "Dad didn't trust her for a reason." Dean cut in, quite business like. "I wanna know what that reason was." "Dad didn't trust anyone or anything! He barely trusted Bobby! He didn't know what she was, you can't blame her for keeping that a secret, can you?!" "No but I wanna make sure she's safe before we let her go." "Where is it?" The cold monotony of Cas' tone announced his arrival. Sam and Dean looked at him for a second. He had his angel blade. "Where is the abomination?" He reiterated when he didn't get an answer. "Downstairs." Dean answered, eyeing the blade. "What's that for, Cas?" The angel looked down at his weapon then back at the hunter with a confused sort of frown. Of all people, Dean should know. "To dispose of it." "Cas, we're not disposing of her!" Sam jumped in, getting to his feet then turned to Dean. "She was mom's friend and you're just gonna let him do this?!" "We don't wanna kill her Cas." Dean began calmly. "We just wanna know if she's safe to have around. It's been a bit of a question mark for about thirty years." "You don't understand. It…" "She, Cas." "IT is an abomination and IT needs to be removed." "Goddamit, Cas! The whole world's been to Hell and back and you're worried about a human and angel one night stand runnin around? Get with the times; it's like someone freakin' out about a half cast kid." "I want to see it." "You'll see HER when you start callin' her right." "Fine. Where is SHE?" "Gimme the angel blade." "No." "Do as he says, Cas." The angel shot Sam a dark look then slammed the blade down on the table. "Take me to HER."

Catherine's reaction to Castiel had not been good. It was like taking a dog to the vet and giving it no way out. She'd backed as far away as the fire would let her but he would just walk around her until Dean made him stop. "Name." Cas demanded, looking all too intimidating through the licks of the flames, though it was as much to keep him out as to keep her in. She looked to Sam (who happened to be closest to her) who gave her an encouraging nod. The female stood in the centre of the fire with her eyes closed and head held high as she answered, determined not to fall victim to Castiel's coldness. "Dr. Catherine Agrippa." "Date of birth." This one was of particular interest. "November tenth, 1792." Dean restrained himself from letting out a whistle. She looked good for over two hundred years old. "Place of birth." "Stratford Upon Avon, Warwickshire, England." One of the places on Sam's bucket list to see before he died. "Mother's name." "Louise Agrippa, she was a nun. Left the sisterhood to have me." "Father's name." The boys watched her intently and so did the angel. Which one of his brothers had produced this? "I never met him." "But you know his name." "My mother told me he was an angel. I assumed she was referring to his personality. But given the fact that I'm over two hundred years old and haven't aged since I was twenty five, I think it might have been more than his personality." "His name." "She said his name was Balthazar."

Dean closed his eyes and covered them with his hand. It would be like Balthazar to knock up a nun. "Other family." Catherine was quiet and Cas was impatient. "Answer me!" "Easy, Cas!" Dean growled across at the angel, noticing the female's face had fallen and her features had softened. Cas was about to scold her again but her feeble tone stopped him. "William McCormack. Emma McCormack. Nathan McCormack. William McCormack." Over two hundred years since she'd uttered those painful names. That satisfied him but she looked like she'd torn out a piece of her heart. Dean knew that look. So did Sam. It was loss. "When did you come here?" "October 1915." "How?" "By sea." "What have you done since then?" A quiet sigh. "I studied, educated myself. Then found myself in the service of the Campbell family. I became a source of information for them. I aided them and other hunters in destroying the supernatural." "Have you had any contact with any other angels?" "No." "Why do you have a Hell Hound?" Dean spluttered at the question, cutting Catherine off from answering. "A what?!" "The Hell Hound." Cas repeated, looking at the eldest Winchester with impatience. "Can't you see it?" "Humans can't see them, Cas." Sam reminded the angel quietly. "Why aren't you more freaked out about this?!" Dean rounded on his brother. "I knew it was here. I knew she had it. It attacked me a while back. Cas healed it for me." Castiel simply rolled his eyes and pressed the question again. "Why do you have a Hell Hound?" "I found it sometime ago. He was in an awful condition so I brought him home, retrained him and kept him. I used to get quite lonely when no one was poking my brain." "Why has it not attacked anyone?" "I told you. I retrained him. I tried to restrain him as long as possible the night he attacked Sam but his commands broke when I…. was no longer conscious." Cas looked to the brothers. Dean was still a little unnerved from the Hell Hound revelation but was willing to push past it.

"Thanks Cas. We wanna conduct our own interview now." "But…." "Just give us a few minutes." The angel scowled and stalked from the cellar, leaving the hunters alone with the two hundred year old Nephilim. "We just wanted to be safe." Dean began after a somewhat tense silence. "We have to be careful. I guess no one gets that better than you." "Well, the cats out of the bag now thanks to your demon friend." She replied bitterly, arms folding over her chest. "He's not so bad when you get to know him. I think he likes you." "No thank you." Dean gave a sort of hopeless grimace, realizing his attempt at humour had failed. "We are so sorry, Catherine." Sam decided to be the voice of reason. "Dean had a lapse in judgement; there really was no need for all this." He shot his brother a look to get in on the apology but the doctor got there first. "It's fine, Sam. I get it. You're daddy's soldiers, you don't trust me. That's fine. But if you could just let me go, you'll never hear from me again, deal?" "I don't think we're gonna do that." Dean chimed in, better late than never. "Excuse me?" Catherine responded from inside the circle of flames, getting as close as the heat would allow her. Even Sam looked at him with dread. "Where's the Hell Hound?" Catherine hesitated. Why'd he need to know that? "Sitting by Sam's left leg." The younger of the two males looked down curiously but obviously saw nothing. "What's it doing?" "Nothing. Sitting there watching." To her surprise, the older hunter pulled up a chair and sat outside the circle facing her. "Talk to me." "What?" "Talk to me." "I'm not sure I….." "We know what you are. We know who your father is and my God…." He looked at Sam and gave a sort bark of laughter. "If ever there was a Balthazar thing to do, it's knock up a nun….."

"You knew him?" "Yeah, got us out of a few tight spots a couple times…. See, all the angels are related so the asshat outside….." "I CAN HEAR YOU, DEAN!" "Is your uncle." "Why are you telling me this?" "Because I think as much as you know about everything else, you know nothing about what you are." That much was true. "Is your aging slow or stopped?" "Stopped. Stopped when I was twenty five." "Why?" "Apparently, a moment of inconceivable anguish will do that." Dean gave an understanding nod, all the while eyeing the fire extinguisher on the wall. "If you're going to kill me, I'd rather you just did it and made it quick." Dean looked back at her but solemnness had graced her features again. "I told you that your father refused to bring you to see me? That was true. What I didn't tell you was that I had promised her I would be there for you like I was for her. John took that from me. I tried to make him see sense, not to drag you into it but he wouldn't listen. I told him this would happen, that one day he'd be gone and the two of you would be stuck and here you are!" The blonde exhaled a frustrated huff and shook her head with a worn sadness, taking a few steps around her containment. "I didn't just lose her that day; I lost the two of you as well. So if you could just make up your mind, I'd like to either make peace or go home." Dean observed her with something akin to sympathy. Was her existence so lonely that it made no difference to her if she continued to live in miserable isolation or if she died there and then? "You've lost a lot, huh?" Her features reverted to the way they had been when Cas had dragged out the names. "Too much." "Who were they?" Quiet again. "Dean, maybe…." "It's fine, Sam." The Nephilim composed herself. "My mother died when I was sixteen. I married William McCormack in 1810 when I was eighteen and he twenty four. Less than a year later, we had a daughter, Emma. She died when she was five. Cholera." The boys looked at each other. In all her years, they didn't think she'd have had a family. Thinking about it now, Sam felt a fresh wave of guilt. "She was gone about four months when I found out I was pregnant again but William was the last to be sent off as part of Britain's contribution of the Napoleonic war. He never came back. William and Nathan were born a few months later." Another sombre pause. "William died about two hours after Nathan. Twins were rare back then. Either one survived or none. So yes, I've lost a lot." "Dammit Sammy, get the fire extinguisher."

And that was how Dr. Catherine Agrippa became a permanent resident in the Kansas bunker.


End file.
